


Broken

by billnsteve



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is Still Alive???, M/M, Post Season 3, Steve Harrington - Freeform, The Upside Down, billy hargrove - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 09:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billnsteve/pseuds/billnsteve
Summary: Post Season 3 drabble where maybe Billy is back?





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> hear me out duffers. :')

It was three in the morning. Steve was fine. He had just managed to get himself to sleep after listening to the pounding of rain on the ceiling for an hour. But he was fine.

And then it happened. He woke to a huge crash and the shattering of glass downstairs in the kitchen. Now he was not so fine.

Steve having been through what he had been through, grabbed his bat full of nails and slowly stalked his way down the stairs. A million possible scenarios making their way through his mind.

The lights in the living room were off and the only light available was what poured in through the blinds.

It was silent now aside from the rain smacking against the windows. Steve couldn't breathe.

He was terrified as he squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on the bat until his hands turned white.

He sighed and opened his eyes, taking a few steps further towards the kitchen. He froze at the corner and leant back against the wall.

"1- 2.. 3- Go-" He muttered to himself quickly, moving to go but freezing and sinking back into the wall.

He nods his head in disbelief, cause this is his life apparently.

"Fuck it." He winces as he turns the corner quickly, bat held high, freezing at the sight of Billy Hargrove in a pile on his kitchen floor, what was once the glass sliding doors, lying in shards around him.

Billy looked up from under his soaking wet hair and mumbled one word-

"Steve."

The bat clattered on the tiles by Steve's feet as he made his way over to Billy quickly, kneeling down and grabbing both sides of Billy's face.

"Billy?" Steve's eyes are wide as he stares at Billy.

Billy who's covered in a mix of black sludge, blood and dirt. The rain he had endured outside causing it all to cascade off of his body and onto the floor beneath him.

He was wearing the white muscle tank he had on the day he died.

And that was just the thing. Billy Hargrove was dead.

Steve had watched him die. Steve had sat in his room with Max sobbing in his arms on a day Neil had been out.

The thing was, Steve and Billy had never even associated with each other outside of the night at the Byers.

But that didn't stop Steve from crying into his pillow for weeks after having to watch Billy get slaughtered in front of him. In front of all of them.

It had to be a dream.

But this hadn't felt like a dream. Especially when Billy moved to cling onto Steve, falling into Steve's chest, shivering and shaking.

"Bill- Billy-" Steve kept repeating his name in disbelief, Steve rocking back and forth with Billy in his arms, chin on top of Billy's soaked curls.

After sitting there in a ball for what felt like hours, Steve moved back and held Billy at arms length. They met eyes.

"Come on." Steve pushed himself up off the floor and held his hand out.

Billy stared at his hand for a minute before shakily reaching out and grabbing hold.

His grip was loose, weak. Hands cold and cut to pieces.

Steve led him up to the bathroom and sat Billy down on the toilet seat lid as he began running bath water.

They sat in silence, Steve looking back every few seconds to make sure Billy was still there and not just some figment of his imagination.

Steve stood up as the tub continued filling.

"Are you good?" Steve gestured towards the bath with his head then looked back to Billy.

Billy just stared at him and somehow that was answer enough for Steve.

Steve stepped into Billy's space and knelt down a little to grab the bottom of his shirt.

Billy just stared as Steve carefully pulled it over Billy's head.

Steve moved to unbuckle Billy's pants but Billy grabbed his wrist quickly.

It was silent and the tension was palpable. Billy was dead. Steve was terrified.

Billy released Steve's wrist and Steve hesitantly continued. He pulled his pants down gently, standing up when Billy was in nothing but his briefs.

Billy slowly pushed himself up and winced as he slid down his briefs, stepping out of them and looking up at Steve who had been staring at the bruises littered all over his body.

Steve shook out of it quickly and held out his arm. Billy grabbed on and let Steve help lower him down into the bath. Billy pulling his knees up to his chest immediately.

Steve didn't wanna talk. Scratch that. Couldn't.

Here Billy Hargrove was, naked and shaking in his bathtub at three in the morning.

Steve had so many questions but he opened his mouth and nothing could make its way out.

He knelt down beside the bath and grabbed a cup, dumping water over Billy's hair slowly. Steve cautiously moved a strand of hair out of Billy's eyes.

"I'm gonna wash your hair, okay?" Steve murmurs, biting his lip.

Billy shuts his eyes slowly and opens them again, nodding once.

This was gonna be a long night.

* * *

  
After Steve had washed Billy's hair, he gave Billy a few minutes alone, resorting to grabbing some clothes for him.

Steve dug around for about five minutes before retreating back to the bathroom.

Billy was sat on the edge of the tub as it drained, towel around his shoulders.

"Got you some shorts. The uh- Rest of my laundry is dirty. Sorry- I was- I meant to do it. You know? Just so bu-" Steve starts rambling as Billy grabs the shorts and tugs them on.

"Steve." Billy cuts him off quietly.

"Yeah?" Steve swallows, eyes locked on Billy's.

"Cold." Billy states wearily.

"Oh of course. Uh- Come on. I can get you a blanket and put the fire on." Steve turns on his heel and heads down the stairs, Billy following him after slowly.

Steve nods to the couch and Billy sits down drearily, staring ahead at the rain falling outside.

After digging through the closet for a good minute, Steve pulls out a blanket and carefully places it around Billy's shoulders.

"I'll be right back."

It's a few minutes until Steve makes his way back into the living room with two cups of hot cocoa.

He hands Billy one with extra marshmallows and sits down on the floor in front of him as he stares off at absolutely nothing.

"Steve." Billy speaks into the silence, the rain coming down harder than before.

"Hm?" Steve hums, staring down into his mug.

"It wasn't me."

"What wasn't you?" Steve gulps, looking up and meeting eyes with Billy.

"I was stuck somewhere. There was- He looked like me- But it wasn't- It _wasn't_ me. I swear. It wasn't me, Steve. But I had to watch- I was there but it wasn't me." Billy mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut for a second and slamming his mug down on the coffee table, hot cocoa splashing everywhere.

Billy grabs Steve's shoulders and kneels down in front of him, blanket falling off.

"I couldn't move- It wasn't me. But- But **I FELT EVERYTHING**." Billy speaks quietly, his voice serious yet shaky.

Steve doesn't know what to say.

"I was so cold." Billy breathes out, eyes tired.

"It _killed_ you, Billy." Steve stares into his eyes, his voice low.

"You're not listening." Billy drops his hands and moves to stand up.

Steve grabs his arm and pulls him back down.

"It possessed you and you died. _You're_ not listening to me." Steve huffs.

"No- It made- A copy of me. One up here and one.. One down there." Billy looked into Steve's eyes like he was supposed to know.

Which he kind of did. Down there. Steve supposed that meant the Upside Down. But if what Billy was saying was true, that meant that he had gotten through the gate. And that meant that the gate was open. 


End file.
